The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1887-05-07

mo! ne exclaimed, rs soon as ne |
fathomed my meaning, for my Italian
was vile beyond belief; my lady knows |
the QueenP"
"Oh yes; they call each other Betsey |
and Margherita when they meet.
Those blue papers,
Lily Ami" said my aunt, sharply;
while Filippo looked at me with pa
thetic, puzzled expression, as if quite
unable to reconcile our very ordinary
style of living and dress with the pos
session of such grand acquaintance.
Before we had driven a dozen yards,
we caught sight of Filippo's step-father
leaning gracefully against one of the
columns forming the portal of the
Doria Palace, and leisurely smoking a
cigarette.
Filippo laid one Of his little brown
hands on my aunt's shabby glove, and
said, in that sweet voice which always
went straight to her heart: "Will the
signora allow me to speak moment to
that viperP M0naa mo was asleep
when / crept out, and he must tell her
that I will be gone all day with the
English lady, and not be back until
after sunset"
BY this time we had left the indolent
ScrittOre behind us, but Filippo ran
back and we watched him give his
message, talking with hands, arms,
shoulders and eyes, as his lively race
are apt to do.
II hope he'll make him understand
some time to-day!' said Aunt Betsey,
impatiently; bat when he came run
ing back, his sunny smile disarmed her
wrath, and she put out her hand to
help him in; quite unnecessarily, for
Filippo could no longer be called an
invalid. remember rejoicing when
he insisted on keeping that uninviting
little third seat, declaring himself to
be quite well again.
At length, we came in sight of the
Pyramid where the unknown Cesto is
buried; and of the grass-grown noun
tain of broken pottery-the jars in
which the whole world once sent trib-
ute to Rome; and of the poplars and
stone-pines which shade the little bury
ing-ground where strangers lie. As we
walked under the sunny sky of Italy,
which was to us an ever-new wonder,
n delightful sense of peace crept over
us.
l gathered, with Filippo's help, a
bunch of white violets from the grave
of Keats, and copied for Aunt Betsey
the pathetic inscription above his last
home. Little as l knew of his life
and / knew less of his poetry could
not help feeling, there at his grave, the
shadow o. his life's bitterness and dis.
appointment.
AS we sauntered out, feeling gently
toward all the world, whom should WE
see, leaning lazily against the wall, bu
Filippo's step-father, smoking a cigar
cite, and looking precisely the same a.
we had left him, miles away, an houl
before.
Aunt Betsey looked sharply a
Filippo, and we both felt uneasy as WI
clambered in an gave the order to oul
cabby. To our surprise he did no
move, but before my aunt could repea
the command, the viper" as FilippC
loved to call him, stepped leisurely for
ward, and seized the bag in which tn,
thousand-franc note had been PLACED
that morning, giving it a sharp jerk
Fortunately, it was Of good Englisl
leather, and stood the strain, My aun
seized it as we'll as she could with bot
hands, and screamed to the cabman t.
drive on; but he sat stolid and passive
not even turning his head to see tn
struggle.
Terrified almost out of my sense,
jumped upon the seat, and seized tn
whip, at the same time emitting two o
! three war-whoops in the hope of bring
, ing help, though there was no one i
SIGHT.
- Aunt Betsey held on bravely, and
actually succeeded in starting the hors
a poor, broken-down old thing, tina
, hardly felt the whip through his toug
,, hide-when Filippo, miserable migrate
4 jumped out in obedience to his stel
: fathers command, and seized the an
nal by the bit. At the same time, Il
father reached over with his disenga,
ed arm, and a lively struggle ersue
between us for the possession of II
whip. The cabman paid no attentio
. ! to what was going on, apparently thin
ing it best to let us settle our own diff
culties.
/ "Scream!" cried my aunt, and viii
y l obeyed, she carried the war into IL
Il enemy's country, with sudden NOV
u ment, evidently quite unexpected |
him. Dropping her hold on the ba
a she fastened her hands, with stror
e clutch, in his glossy and luxuriant hal
II 1t must have hurt him, for he cried on